


you were my picket fence

by addtastic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dysfunctional Family, Hale Family Feels, Kid Fic, M/M, Major Illness, Post Minor Character Death, Teacher Stiles, Werewolves don't exist, dad derek, original child character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:17:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addtastic/pseuds/addtastic
Summary: After four years he thought that he would have the parent thing down and Derek kind of did,





	

It was the clang of metal hitting tile that rang in Derek’s ears, “Derek, get the fuck out of here!” Laura was screaming at him before he even tried to pick up the palate of medical instruments he’d knocked over. “You’re not helping with my- _fuuuuucking Christ_ ” Her teeth were locked tight together, words coming out as a hiss.

“I’m sorry, Laura.” Derek said giving a pitying look to Andrew who, as dutiful husband, was allowing Laura to all but breaking his fingers in her grip. Andrew simply nodded his head towards the door, his smile sympathetic.

“Go.” Laura growled and Derek does.

The waiting room was empty when Derek fell heavily into the first chair he saw. There were a few times in his life that his twin sister has scared the shit out of him and that just happened to trump all of them. He knew she was verging on insane without all the pregnancy hormones in her system, but add in the pain and fatigue and Laura Hale was all but foaming at the mouth, out for blood. And it seemed she always had a taste for Derek’s.

It wasn’t his fault, honestly. This was the first baby he’d ever been present for the birth of. He was going to be nervous. Seeing the look of determination on his sister’s face, hearing her screaming and cursing, Derek was horrified. Never in his life had he been so thankful to get the Y chromosome while they shared their mother’s womb. He never wanted to go through something like this. Ever. And it was lasting for hours. Sure, he was old enough when Cora was born to sit in this very same waiting room, but it seemed to go faster then. Probably because he wasn’t as invested over _another_ person that Laura would no doubt turn against him. But this? A niece or nephew after some many years of only Derek and his sisters? This was amazing.

Sitting wasn’t working so Derek began to pace, counting his steps instead of glancing at the clock every fifteen seconds.

_One, two, three, four…_

He could hear Laura down the hall.

_Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…_

“Son of a bitch!”

_Sixty-four, sixty five, sixty six._

“Shut the fuck up, Andrew! Tell me I’m doing _wonderful_ one more time. I dare you!”

Derek couldn’t help but laugh, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest and reverberating around the empty room.

Two hours later he was still pacing and Laura’s threats have died down to single swears here and there. She was the one that opted to have this baby the old fashioned, non-medicated way, just like their mother had. Laura always was trying to prove herself, to live up to the legacy that Talia had left behind. Even when she exceeded any expectations that their mother would have had for her, it still wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever good enough. A Masters in social work? Nope. Had to be a Doctorate. (She always makes Derek call her Dr. Laura around the holidays.) And though by the time Talia was Laura’s age, she was pregnant with Cora and had two children under her belt already, Laura was adamant about having at least three for herself. 

She was still young, there would be time for more. Yet, when Derek held the newborn in his arms for the first time he realized that she was as close to perfection that anything could get. 

+

It’s cold, Derek thought, his hand reaching blindly to grope at his bedside table. His phone had started vibrating almost a full minute before he was conscious enough to actively search it out. With a cracked eye he glanced at the clock which read 2:55 in blinking red numbers.

“Hello?” His voice was thick and rough, the phone presses tightly against his ear. The voice on the other end rushed through a practiced speech, Derek’s sleep muddled brain was struggling to keep up when words like _accident_ and _casualties_ were being tossed around like she was discussing the weather.

“Mr. Hale?” the voice asked, “Do you understand the information I just provided for you?”

“What?”

“You’re presence is required at Beacon Hills Memorial as soon as possible. You’ll be needed to identify the bodies.” And the line went dead.

+

Derek didn’t cry on his way to the hospital. He didn’t cry as Melissa slowly slid back the sheet to reveal Laura’s lifeless body, cold and pale, laying on a gurney. He didn’t cry when he saw the mangled car. Derek had no more tears left after the fire. He had already buried his family once. But then he had Laura to count on for strength. She was his twin, his other half. And now? Now she was dead. Just like everyone else.

The police said that they had been blindsided by another vehicle. The car had rolled and rolled and rolled until finally slamming into a Jersey wall. Everything had been crushed. Andrew died on impact, but Laura was a fighter. She held on until the paramedics came with their power tools to cut her from the twisted metal. Sheriff Stiliniski held her hand all the while, or so they told Derek later. They told him that she was smiling despite the pain, telling Sheriff all about her beautiful daughter at home with her sister. By the time Laura was finally cut free, her grip had gone lax in Sheriff's hand, blood had flooded her lungs, and there was nothing the paramedics could do.

It wasn’t something that Derek wanted to dwell on. How utterly painful his sister;s last moments would have been as she slowly drowned in her own blood. He didn’t want to think what was going through her mind since she knew she was going to die, she had said as much to Sheriff, or so  they told Derek later.

+

After four years he thought that he would have the parent thing down and Derek kind of did, he really did. But hair styles and dresses were not his area of expertise. It was the main reason that on most days he allowed Ellie to pick out her own clothes for school. It wasn’t an odd occurrence to see her with a princess dress and the red sequin cowboy boots that Cora had bought her for her last birthday.

Notes had been sent home on more than one occasion, but Derek shrugged them off. He didn’t see a reason to force her into toned down outfits, even if the most outlandish thing in Derek’s mostly monochromatic wardrobe was a baby blue t-shirt that he was bullied into buying.

For the life of him Derek couldn’t seem to manage a French braid. Maybe it was the struggling six year old in his lap that refused to sit still, or maybe it was because his fingers were too thick and uncoordinated to handle her fine hair. “I can’t do this.” Derek huffs, dropping Ellie’s dark strands and watching helplessly as his futile attempts of braiding unwound themselves around her shoulders.  

“How about a ponytail?” Ponytails are simple, the don’t take much skill and that was right in Derek’s wheelhouse.

“No.”

“No ponytail?” Derek peered over Ellie’s shoulder trying to catch her eyes, “Well, that’s the best I can do today, El.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Derek frowned, combing all of her thick, dark hair, Laura’s hair, into a loose bun at the base of Ellie’s neck. As soon as he was finished, he urged her up, “We’re going to be late, get your sweater.”

He watched as her eyebrows rose at him, pudgy fingers lifting to feel about around Derek’s finished product. “Do not.” He barked, already seeing her next move coming, “Eleanor. Leave it.” And she did. For about five seconds before the hair tie went flying and her hair fell to frame her face.

“I want a braid. Aunt Lydia always braids my hair for the first day of school.” She was smirking at him. Albeit it was slightly lack luster due to the lack of front teeth, still Derek let out an exasperated sigh.

“Aunt Lydia isn’t here and we’re late.” Ellie crossed her arms over her chest and Derek had no one to blame but himself for that learned behavior, especially because he matched her stance.

For a six year old, Ellie was tall and lanky. She barely came up to Derek’s waist but she was still at least a head taller than her classmates. Her black hair hung to her shoulders, bangs nearly dipping into her light brown eyes.

As a Hale, Ellie’s eyes stood out. Other than that, she was all Laura. The rest of the family sported hazel green or something close to it. But Eleanor’s eyes were warm amber, possessing magical capabilities to ensure Derek did exactly what she wanted when she looked at him.

It was a standoff and Derek was losing ground quickly. He was the adult, dammit. He wasn’t going to be intimated by this little munchkin. But...yeah. Yeah, he totally was. “Please, El? You can’t be late for your first day.” He was deflating fast and she knew it. Derek was wrapped so tightly around her little finger that sometimes it was difficult to breathe. “We can get pizza for dinner if we go right now. And we’ll see if Aunt Lydia can braid your hair tomorrow.”

Ellie didn’t budge. She liked to make Derek sweat.

“Okay.” She finally conceded. And Derek let out a sigh, handing her the little yellow backpack she had begged him for at Target last week.  “I want extra-extra-extra cheese.”

And with that, Derek realized he had been played. Though, it was hardly the first time.

By some miracle, there had been no traffic getting to the elementary school. Derek thanked his lucky stars simply because maybe Miss Eleanor Hale didn’t have the best attendance record. Okay, so Derek was a worrier, he deserves his small vices.

At any sign of a cold or cough they were in the waiting room of her Pediatrician with a list of symptoms Derek had painstakingly looked up on WebMD.  He still can’t look the receptionist in the eye after the You-Don’t –Understand-It’s-A-Flesh-Eating-Parasite incident during Ellie’s terrible twos. It was  poison ivy in the end. But still…

The parking lot was full to capacity so Derek had to park out on the street if he wanted to walk Ellie in. Which he did. He parked without comment, getting out of the Camaro and moving around to open Ellie’s door.  The drive had been mostly silent other than the low thrum of the radio. He could tell Ellie was restless, nervous about her first day of “real school”. Derek asked as much as he pulled open her door.

“No.” was her reply. She avoided his eyes when a heavy hand landed on her head in an attempt to soothe her.

“You’re going to do fine.” Derek murmured quietly enough for her to hear. Ellie looked hesitant when she finally looked up from her shoes, the bright morning sunlight catching her eyes and making them shine gold. 

They walked hand in hand following the line of students and parents into the building. Eyes followed Derek, perfectly glued to the back of his gray sweater as he passed the PTA moms. Cora had nicknamed them the _Voluptuous Vultures_. It was like they were circling a carcass; watching with hungry eyes, pushed out push-up heavy chests and lips stained dark red. Pleasantries were exchanged in some cases, however.  Nods of acknowledgement in their general direction, mostly. With horny housewives, if he gave an inch, they strutted a mile in the direction of their bedrooms trying to drag Derek along for the ride.

He had learned that the hard way.

Ellie’s tiny hand gripped at his thumb tighter as they entered the building. Together they walked past the main office, the Pre-K room and the Kindergarten room before coming to a stop outside room 1A. Derek gave another reassuring squeeze. “Here we are.” He said with as much excitement that his personality would allow. But Ellie didn’t let go, nor did she take a step towards the threshold. All the sass from that morning had disappeared and what was left was a terrified little girl who just couldn’t seem to take the final step.

“Dad…”  Derek winced. He had tried so hard to get Ellie to call him Uncle Derek, but it never took. It felt like an insult to Andrew. If she called him Dad the memory of her real father would fade until there was nothing left except the family portrait above the mantel. But with Ellie looking at him now, her bottom lip almost trembling, Derek just smiled and urged her forward.

The room was full of too many colors. Everything was bright and vibrant, designed to keep the attention of small children, but at the same time, it was an organized chaos. Misplaced things, set askew almost purposely, but somehow exactly where they needed to be. A fondness set in Derek’s chest because of the familiarity of it all. Ellie looked around, letting her guard down only because there wasn’t anyone else in the room yet.

“He is such a mess.” Derek said shaking his head lightly. The corner of his mouth had pulled up to form a halfhearted, lopsided grin.

“I resent that.”

Not turning around Derek shrugged. “Uncle Stiles!” Ellie had let go of Derek’s hand in haste to run to Stiles, who was leaning in the doorway. He bent down, lifting her into the air when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Stiles smiled warmly at Ellie, “I hate to say it, El, but he is a little bit right.” Ellie frowned at looked between them.

“Why not?”

“When we’re in class, everybody else is going to be calling me Mr. Stilinski.”

“Mr. ‘linski?”

“Close enough.”

Voices were traveling down the hall, more kids, more parents and suddenly Derek didn’t want to leave Ellie here. What if someone was mean to her or what if she got scared? Would they call Derek if she started to cry because she couldn’t remember which cubbie was hers?  
  
This was only Stiles’ second year of teaching; something could happen that he didn’t know how to handle. Derek had seen Stiles lose his shit. It wasn’t a memory held fondly.

During Derek’s existential crisis, Stiles had put Ellie down at her desk. There was a name tag with her name written in a neat, sprawling cursive that he recognized as Lydia’s. Of course, Stiles wouldn’t subject his students to his chicken scratch on their first day. 

Watching her sit there with her too big book bag still hanging on her shoulders, Derek tore his eyes away. The huge, excited grim splitting her face was too much for him.

Laura should be seeing this, not him.  
  
“She’s going to be fine.” He hadn’t even noticed Stiles was back at his side. Derek looked away from Ellie. Other students were filing in with excited chatter. With effort, Derek held Stiles’ gaze for a moment, trying to smile as best he could before turning back to his little girl.

“I know.”

Ellie waved happily as Derek left.

+

Derek so wasn’t panicking the whole walk back to the car. He absolutely did not text Cora and ask her what she thought about potentially homeschooling Eleanor for the rest of first grade, if not her entire academic career. She didn’t text back, but the seen notification was checked off. Clearly, she didn’t have time for his particular brand of crazy. He didn’t blame her.

The house was empty and it was unsettling. While it looked exactly the same when they had left it less than a half an hour ago, there was no noise, not even a creak in the floorboards when he crossed the living room. With both Cora and Ellie gone, Derek thought he could get some work in. Not that he didn’t enjoy when Ellie kept him company, but she was a diva and demanded all of his attention whenever she was in the room. But when an opportunity presented itself to get a few pages done, best take advantage of it.

An hour passed and Derek had cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry, and quickly made a new pot of coffee before he looked over his notes. He’d been working on his sequel for months but he still didn’t have an ending. He didn’t even have the climax, only about a miles worth of rising actions and an outline that read like a novella.

Procrastination.

Derek sat down at his desk and stared angrily at the blank word document.  His first book had been a success. It was highly popular with WWII history buffs, even though all of the characters were fictional. The battles were real, the circumstances the men went through, those were true too. Derek had researched and interviewed veterans, he put his Masters to good use by recalling all of the facts and figures about the Pacific from his senior thesis that he could remember.

In the end the book was a 1458 page testimonial to the hardships that the American Marines had suffered serving their country. Of course, it had to be edited down to a more manageable size. Only about 450 pages were published, leaving all the rest to be used in the rest of the series.  
  
Theoretically he had enough for another two books already but Derek had a very hard time accepting things can be that easy. He all but scrapped what he had and decided to throw in a death of a main character to keep readers on their toes then thought better of it and rewrote the chapter another three times before making up his mind to keep him alive in the end.

There was just so much Derek had to say. He wasn’t good at talking so he had to find another outlet. When he wrote, the words flowed out of him, uninhibited and without second thought. Stiles joked that it was Derek’s reserve that he poured into his writing, that he used all his words on the page so he had none left for friendly conversation.  For that Derek wrote in a character called Biles that had dysentery and died of dehydration due to explosive diarrhea.

Around noon Derek had given up on the scene that he was working on. Jerry, his protagonist, had just been captured from his foxhole and was being moved to a POW camp. This version was completely different from the original draft. Initially, Jerry, a wiry, charismatic boy of just 18, single handedly saved his platoon form a Japanese Bonzi attack. It was cliché, but it spoke to Derek’s hero complex. He had come to his senses and realized that Jerry needed to have weaknesses, he needed to be broken down to make him relatable.

Derek found that when he wrote he lost track of time. Only by tuning out the world around him could he completely submerge himself in 1942. He was so caught up that he didn’t even hear his phone signal that he had 3 rapid fire texts from _Pain in the Ass_

 **Pain in the Ass:** El made a buddy

 **Pain in the Ass:** During snack she shared her gushers-great choice btw

 **Pain in the Ass:** She is doing really great. You can stop worrying

Derek smiled at the covert picture of Ellie that Stiles had snuck. She was at her desk, huge grin, face turned towards the little boy next to her.  She looked so happy and that did manage to bring Derek some peace of mind. Even if it gave him a renewed urge to drive back to school and keep an eye on her through the window. He didn’t, thankfully.

Instead he sets the alarm on his phone for 2:15 and allows himself the small luxury of a nap in the afternoon sun. He dreams of war and battles, he dreams of crashing waves and walls of exploding dirt. He dreams of Stiles storming the beaches of Guadalcanal with Eleanor on his back.

+

When it came time to pick up Ellie he didn’t burst in guns blazing like he wanted to. Instead Derek waited patiently and leaned against the hood of the Camaro. Admittedly, he did look menacing. Mostly it was his face; heavy brows and a thin lipped grimace. It wasn’t his fault. He had no control over the constant look of displeasure that he wore. He simply couldn’t go about smiling at people either, it was a double edged sword that left Derek Hale looking like a psycho for two different reasons. But said anger was replaced by determination as his eyes bore into the blue double doors of the school. Younger children began to emerge reminding Derek of his daughter when she was that little. Dressed in purple tutu, running down the stairs after her very first day of Pre-K.

Derek thinks back, recalls the way that he had felt sick to his stomach when he had to hand her  to Ms. Ericson. Derek had sat in the parking lot until noon just watching and waiting.

He needed to be around. Just in case.

Everyday for two weeks he sat in the lot for hours after he had dropped her off.  And every day for two weeks, at 10:15, Stiles would meander out from the office with a paper cup from the office filled to the brim with the worst coffee Derek had ever tasted. Still, he would accept the cup along with the small pitying smile that Stiles offered with a shrug. If anyone could understand the worry that is brought on by tragedy, it’s Stiles Stilinski.

When Derek caught a glimpse of Ellie through the crowd he couldn’t help but grin at her. The knot in his chest loosening as she ran to him. “I love school!” She announced excitedly, throwing her backpack at Derek’s feet. “Uncle Stiles read us this story about frogs. Can I have a frog? Uncle Stiles said they are good pets.”

In that moment, Derek was thinking of ways to resurrect Biles and kill him again.

Over all he was glad that she wasn’t going to be scared to go back tomorrow. And as she regaled all the things that she had learned and the friends that she made on the drive home, Derek listened intently. He was smiling, nodding and putting in his input when it was appropriate.

It wasn’t until later when Stiles showed up on his doorstep with an extra extra cheese pizza and a smirk that he realized this day could have been so much worse. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story 3 years ago and it's been sitting in my gdocs until now. I thought, why not work on it again.  
> Hope you enjoyed. Keep an eye out for more. :D
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr...  
> triskelydia.tumblr.com


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